


Haggar Has Shrunk the Keith

by thatoldbroad



Series: Embarrassingly Late [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crack, Humor, M/M, Mini Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoldbroad/pseuds/thatoldbroad
Summary: Haggar casts a spell on Keith that turns him teeny, tiny, wee.Or - author's excuse to write mini-Keith.





	Haggar Has Shrunk the Keith

**Author's Note:**

> Pervy as fuck, but not explicitly. Sadly. Also, a little bit of dark humor - beware.

Shiro looks down, down, down … down at Keith, who is standing next to Shiro frowning and shooting daggers of hate and venom at the other paladins with the force of his glare. Indeed, if looks could kill, Lance, Hunk and Pidge would be three heaps of ashes having resulted from a single spiteful thought: _die motherfuckers_. 

Which is to say that business is as usual, except for one teeny, tiny, wee consequence resulting from the paladins’ most recent encounter with Haggar: meaning, Keith. Meaning, Keith has been turned teeny, tiny, wee, as in sized down to roughly eleven inches tall, or approximately half the height of Shiro’s calf, next to which he continues to glower. It really is eerie how long he can go without blinking. He is a perfect miniature replica of himself, dressed in one of his fingerless gloves: two finger holes have been repurposed as pants; the thumb hole is a sleeve for his right arm; the left arm remains bare to the shoulder; and the rest of the garment is belted at the waist by one of the elastic bands that Keith uses to tie back his hair. He looks like a fashionista Ken doll decked in _Comme des Garcons_ about to strut down a catwalk. In other words: so dang cute. And, consequently, distracting. As in, _dirtybadwrong_ distracting, which can be tempered only by the most disgusting, vilest thing that Shiro can imagine - a slug. Magnified to gigantic and textured in HD in Shiro’s head. Ick, yuck, gross. Nasty on sight, but the experience of having stepped on one barefoot left him scarred for life.

“So,” Shiro says, surveying each of the paladins in turn. Who can he blame? His eyes land first on - 

Lance, who had come streaking and shrieking into the strategy room while waving his arms in the air and had Shiro presuming initially that he was performing a parody of Kolivan drunk-dancing at their last Overthrow the Galra Federation rally, until it dawned on Shiro what he was yelling: “Haggar has shrunk the Keith! Haggar has shrunk the Keith!” Presently, he is avoiding any and all eye contact, concentrated on some point behind Shiro and making fascinated faces at it while whistling _I’ve Been Working on the Railroad_. The body-language combination spells out _I didn’t do it, nope, not me _and no person over the age of five could possibly pull it off unless said person was irresistibly cute. So, Keith, maybe, but Lance is no Keith in Shiro’s heart-shaped eyes; of course, Shiro is instantly suspicious.__

But Hunk is no more convincing. He may be meeting Shiro’s eyes, but their meek, puppy-dog imitation is too contrived to be completely sincere. Shiro is onto Hunk. He knows there’s a ninja-assassin-sly-manipulator under that jolly good foodie facade. Like a pedophile Santa Clause or a ninety-year-old grandmother who smokes ganja - betwixt the two must lie the truth. 

Pidge is the only paladin who does not buckle in the slightest under Shiro’s inspection. She stares right back at him, unwavering: bring it bitch. And Shiro would. Except they have an audience, and Shiro suspects that if he did bring his bitch, his bitch would lose. Another time, perhaps. He’s not scared. 

“I will recap what you have collectively reported so far. You were sent on a strict exploration-only mission - a.k.a., look and see, but don’t touch anything, and definitely don’t break anything. As you were looking and seeing and definitely not touching or breaking anything - isn’t that right, Lance - you were ambushed by Haggar and a few of her select minions. As you were fighting the minions, Haggar suddenly cackled like the green witch from the Wizard of Oz and took off for an unmeasurable distance likely beyond the reach of even rainbows and unicorns - do I have that correct, Hunk? At which point, Keith ran after her. According to you Pidge, you then yelled at Keith: what are you doing, you idiot? And then - “ 

“Actually,” Pidge interrupts. “What I said was: you stupid fucking moron, do you have a death wish? What am I saying - of course you do! Get your skinny ass back here! Keith, Keith, you dummy, stop being a drama queen, listen to what I’m - ” 

“Yes!” Shiro yelps, simultaneously to shut Pidge up and in reaction to Keith pinching him on the leg. Good grief. Like his leg had suddenly been nipped by a crab’s pincer. The proportion of Keith’s strength to his size hasn’t been diminished at all by his shrinking. “I got it. Thank you, Pidge. Very helpful - ow! I mean, moving along.” 

“Exactly,” Pidge says, again highjacking back the conversation. She’s revving up to deliver a speech. Shiro surreptitiously shifts away from Keith - roughly three inches and out of pinching reach - while she has Keith’s attention. “It was pointless to run after him and we _couldn’t_. We were occupied. It was Keith who broke protocol. He knew better. He always knows better. But he can’t ever see straight through his temper. He got himself shrunk. He can’t blame us for his mistake, and neither can you.” 

She stomps off after that. Lance and Hunk hurry after her, like two cubs orbiting to the safe protection of their lioness mother. 

“Pidge is right,” Keith says. Pidge's diatribe has left him deflated and he is staring forlornly at his feet. Shiro crouches down. He desperately wants to give Keith a hug, but the logistics make it impossible. He settles for looping a pinky around Keith’s slumped shoulders. He’s not sure who feels more comforted when Keith leans in and puts his head on it. 

“Let’s focus on finding a way to change you back. How does that sound?” 

“Good,” he says. He gives Shiro a teeny, tiny, wee smile. Adorable. 

_

“Come, come on. Pick up. Answer, damn it.” 

Kolivan is off universe for an indefinite period of time. If this is urgent, please contact Thace at … 

iMessage again. Kolivan hasn’t returned any of Shiro’s or Keith’s calls since The Talk, and Shiro is beginning to suspect that he isn’t just ignoring their calls, but has programmed them to go directly to that greeting. Dick. 

“Kolivan. It’s Shiro. Again. Haggar has shrunk the Keith - I mean, Keith. Haggar has shrunk Keith and it’s not as funny or fun as the movie would have you believe. And don’t pretend you don’t know the reference. I saw you and Coran sneaking a vintage Earthling movie marathon night with a side of Nunvill - or should I say, a side of movie marathon with your Nunvill? Shut up, it made sense in my head. Anyway, we need you. For Quintessence’s sake, please call us back.” 

If Shiro had any doubt about the urgency of their situation, it’s put to rest an hour later; Kolivan actually returns his call. But he refuses to wormhole in person despite Shiro reasoning that the conversation might be more productive that way. Because “boundaries” and some under-the-breath muttering about “fool me twice.” 

“Where is he?” Kolivan demands as soon as he materializes on the video communicator screen. 

“Right here - oh.” Keith is below sight of the camera. 

Shiro bends down and offers Keith a hand. Keith shoots it a look of pure disdain. They have yet to figure out another method that can transport Keith just as efficiently and conveniently; delivery-by-hand makes Keith feel “stupid.” Which in Keith-speak can mean many things - useless, juvenile, illogical, especially when he is referring to Lance. Though in this particular scenario, Shiro would guess helpless or vulnerable or infantilized. Or stupid - Keith’s hostile glare can mean exactly that. That Shiro had earlier volunteered to pretend that his hand was a fighter plane and Keith its pilot didn’t help. Neither did the _whoosh-whoosh_ noises that Shiro made as he tried to sell the idea. Shiro can’t be blamed. Keith is literally a walking, talking action figure manifest from Shiro’s geeky adolescent dreams. Of course, Shiro wanted to play with him. 

Correction: a walking, talking action figure manifest from Shiro’s geeky adolescent _wet_ dreams, because in the next instant, “play with him” tips into salacious territory. 

Keith wriggles and squirms and rubs and slides against Shiro’s palm, the back of his thighs and buttocks warm and sinewy, as he tries to find a comfortable position. In the process, he catches Shiro’s index finger between his legs. It was an accident, Shiro will later swear up and down and on his bond with Black, when the finger, drawn instinctively to Keith’s crotch and with no input from Shiro whatsoever, pets it. Up. Down. In the circular pattern that Keith likes. 

Keith’s darling little face flames red to the roots of his hair. 

“What’s taking so long?” Kolivan barks, effectively jolting Shiro - and his finger - back to the issue at hand. Pun not intended. Shiro’s finger creeps away meekly as if it had been personally chastised. Keith hugs his knees to his chest: nothing to see here. Definitely not a woody. 

Kolivan says nothing while he stares at Keith. Minutes pass, and Shiro’s hope grows. Surely Kolivan is piecing the answer in that thick Galra head of his. 

“I agree,” he says finally. “This is a problem.” 

Shiro counts to ten. He inhales, holds the breath for five seconds, and exhales, as he learned from his meditation-on-the-go app. _Patience yields focus._ Nope. Not happening. Not this time. 

Shiro explodes: “Ya think, Captain Obvious?! I was thinking that you’d - I don’t know - have a solution.” 

“I don’t.” Kolivan shakes his head. “The Blade of Marmora have no experience with Keith’s predicament.” Allura and Coran had said the same earlier, after confirming that the healing pod isn’t an option. Shiro’s disappointment was negligible; he knew the pod was a long shot. But Kolivan and the BOM, he had hoped - Shiro’s heart sinks. Who can they turn to next? 

“I do know a guy,” Kolivan adds. “He may be able to help Keith.” 

“You could’ve led with that, genius!” Keith shouts. 

A shouting match, a close call with a black hole, a brief respite at a base in a time-space fold, and two wormholes later - the first is a wrong exit that inspires a second shouting match - they arrive at a cave. 

Aguay - not _a guy_ \- is wearing a caftan and sandals, and has green skin and orange hair. A pipe dangles from his mouth. Shiro sniffs: weed. 

“That is a problem,” Aguay says after his long assessment of Keith. Keith and Shiro share a look: we promised to behave. And they do. A third shouting match does not ensue. “But it has an easy fix. He’s lucky. The witch cast a simple spell: _ah ah ouy kcuf_.” 

Without conscious thought, the letters jumble in Shiro’s head. “Fuck you ha ha?” he says in disbelief. Spelled backwards. He’s ace at anagram games. 

Aguay nods. “Exactly. Either she was bored or - ” He shrugs. “Bored. Fuck you ha ha - what else could it mean?” He leaves for an alcove in the cave and returns with a small bottle that is capped with a dropper. “Give him two drops a day, morning and night, until he returns to normal size.” 

“How long will that take?” 

“No clue. Two days at the earliest, and no longer than a month.” 

“A month?” Shiro says faintly. 

Aguay shrugs. “The witch was really, really bored.” 

By the time they return to the castleship, Pidge has thawed considerably and, upon their arrival, she and Hunk present Keith with a miniature bungalow cabin equipped with indoor plumbing. It has a full bath with a working toilet and a steamer shower and niched into another corner is a sauna. 

“Wow,” Shiro says. “You did this in five hours?” It’s nearly as impressive as their turnaround on the Barbarella-style sex machine, which now takes up the entirety of Shiro’s bedroom and had “forced” Shiro to move in with Keith. 

“It was either this or a litter box, right?” Pidge says. 

“This is really nice of you,” Keith says from Shiro’s palm. He means it. His face is sweetly open and earnest, the picture of gratitude - and it goes straight to Shiro’s cock. _Dirtybadwrong_ alarms in Shiro’s head. Think quick: big giant slug, big giant slug. Sweat breaks on Shiro’s brow. 

“Uh, you all right there, Shiro?” Hunk asks. 

“Yes, perfectly fine.” Just don’t look down. Thankfully, they don’t. They know better. Awkward displays of affection have been par for the course since Keith presented as an Omega. They studiously keep their eyes away as Shiro makes his stiff-legged exit to his and Keith’s room. 

_

Five days later, Keith is no closer to normal size and Shiro is on the edge of patience frustrated by jealousy and blue balls. 

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance _adore_ mini-Keith. Because Keith plays with _them_. He has been happily role-playing Boba Fett since Pidge and Hunk produced a replica of his Slave I starship. Which, fine - it is more appealing than Shiro’s cupped palm. And Shiro’s mother did always encourage him to share his toys. 

Which Keith isn’t. Because if he was a toy, Shiro is certain he would not be plagued _constantly_ by perverse ways of how to defile Keith in his current state. Like: could Keith take a Q-tip? Shiro doesn't get the answer to this question, but he does reconsider it momentarily that night, shortly after he’s woken from deep rem by a scent: vanilla musk with a hint of jasmine. 

Shiro’s eyes snap open. He counts in his head. The timing’s right. They’ve been so focused on Keith’s current predicament that they had forgotten his other, equally pressing monthly matter: Keith is going into heat. 

Shiro whips the blankets off him and bolts upright to peer into Keith’s bungalow, which has been nailed above their bed. “Love?” Shiro calls to him while the Alpha inside of Shiro stirs to consciousness. Shit shit shit. Shiro watches his hand, as if it had a mind of its own, reach into the bungalow. He can’t stop it. He wouldn’t even if he could. Shiro grabs Keith and tosses him onto the bed. 

“Shiro?” Keith says faintly. He is still blinking the fog from his eyes. He is beautifully mussed and his pajama top is hiked up, revealing a strip of belly. 

“God,” Shiro chokes out. He tears off the pajama top and its bottom - they can go back to the Space Mall to get Keith another pair. Finally, Keith is naked. Finally, Shiro can - Shiro licks him from the bottom of his feet to the tip of his head, a long, exaggerated swipe that leaves Keith glistening. 

“Fuck,” Keith gasps. He arches up. And from there Shiro lets his freak flag fly. 

Multiple orgasms later, Shiro finds himself with a black eye - courtesy of Keith’s knee cap, which had butted Shiro in the face when he suddenly, unexpectedly returned to his full size at five foot seven. 

“Sorry, shit. Sorry,” Keith says, pawing at him. 

But they’re both relieved. And no Q-tips - just Shiro's big monstrous cock - have to be sacrificed in the name of biology. 

_

Coda: 

Keith spreads his legs wider. Shiro’s tongue is, _god_ , so huge. And wet. And slick. A blanket of sex and _need_ and it’s eating him out like there’s no tomorrow. 

“Yes,” Keith shouts and wakes himself in the process. He blinks stupidly. He’s just creamed in his pants. 

“Dreaming again?” Shiro asks sleepily, and draws Keith closer. 

“Yeah.” Keith nuzzles against Shiro’s chest. 

“That dream?” 

“That dream.” After a beat, Keith adds, "I might miss it." 

“A little?" Shiro quips, because Shiro can't resist a bad joke. "Well, we can still pretend." He flips Keith onto his stomach. “But only if you promise me one thing.” Keith’s pajama bottom slides down. 

“What’s that?” Keith asks, then goes breathless. Anything, anything, Keith thinks muzzily, as Shiro’s breath hovers at the swell of his ass. 

“Next time, you play Boba Fett and I get to be the imperial guard that has captured you and made you his slave.” 

After a trip to the Space Mall much, much later, Shiro gets his wish. 

**Author's Note:**

> Done. Peace out, Voltron fandom. It's been fun.


End file.
